


Hues of Dawn

by Celebrimbor_Of_Eregion



Series: Happy Celebrimbor Things [7]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Crossover, Gen, M/M, Silver Star, rape mention, references to past rape, references to past torture, torture mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-08-23 06:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celebrimbor_Of_Eregion/pseuds/Celebrimbor_Of_Eregion
Summary: Sequel to Shades of Twilight (AU where Celebrimbor escapes Barad-Dur only to become the captive of Aaravos). If you needed a happy sequel where Tyelpë is rescued, this is it! No knowledge of Shades of Twilight is required. Brief reference to Aaravos from The Dragon Prince, but too brief to keep a tag.





	1. Release

**Author's Note:**

> For bluedancingkittykat

Tyelperinquar waited.

He had started referring to himself by that name as of late - a thing that would have not been possible but a few months ago. The creature he had turned into hardly deserved that name - weak, broken, used, treated as a mere tool. By now, Aaravos had lost the remnants of respect for him, turning completely into an owner of a little pet - a cute and endearing one but hardly deserving of any serious consideration. Aaravos cuddled him and kissed him and “loved” him, but there were no more conversations of high matters and spirits. Tyelpë had almost forgotten who he was, a mere shadow of his past self - almost.

Inspired partly by his pride, partly by his power over a helpless creature, Aaravos decided to launch another attack on the treacherous mirror. While he prepared the mighty spell, the silly little pet had to stay out of the way - and so Aaravos presented the said pet with a clay workshop.

What he did not know is that Tyelpë’s happiness was much more than mere excitement of a mindless animal at a new, unusual thing. Claywork was the first form of art he had been exposed to as a small elfling, long ago when the world was young. Memories hit him as soon as he saw the tools laid out for him on the table: Nerdanel’s calloused hands holding him, gentler than Aaravos ever did; the soft voice she used to explain to him the secrets of the trade; the scent of herbs, and his father’s laugh, and Fëanor’s proud smile… It took a heavy effort to suppress tears, and Tyelpë did not yet know why, but he could not let Aaravos know of those memories.

And thence started his journey back in time. He began with pots, and moved on to figurines, and then to models, and now, there were Nargothrond and Gondolin and Ost-in-Edhil, small but proud at the feet of their maker - and he remembered. He was skilled, and proud, and well-born, he had cheated death in each of those cities, and he would not vanish in this Eru-forsaken place.

Tyelpë knew not any mighty spells that would work in this world, but he knew of the Valar’s kindness, and he relied on it. He begged of Manwë to send him strength, and of Varda to give him mercy, and of Aulë to provide counsel.

He knew not that there was another one of the Noldor, begging the same Valar for the same things, worlds and worlds away. He knew not if it was Manwë who sent that rain that made Aaravos so helplessly sleepy, if it was Varda who took pity on him, if it was Aulë who released the mighty spells.

But the rains descended upon their little house like a waterfall, and the worlds aligned, and Tyelperinquar son of Curufin was free.


	2. The Two Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyelpë returns to where he is truly loved.

Galadriel whispered a protective spell, sealing her mirror after the recent appearance of such a welcome intruder. Of course, Elrond will take care of Celebrimbor while she made sure nothing else from thence would slither into this world.

The visions of Celebrimbor’s suffering started bothering shortly after the poor boy was captured. She witnessed him writhing under torment, screaming in pain, losing his blood and his sanity. At first, there were but incoherent dreams Galadriel saw at night in her bed, but soon, they entered the mirror, interrupting her attempts to collect intelligence on the enemy. Soon, she learned that Sauron had another mirror, yet he seemed to know not of its full power. In vain did Galadriel try to contact Tyelpë through that other mirror, and many sleepless nights did she spend with tears in her eyes.

One night, the Lady of Lorien jolted awake in a fit of pain. She rushed to her mirror; she could see the enemy’s mirror still, but no Tyelpë. Hours passed, and days, and weeks, and Galadriel had to tell Elrond and Gil-Galad that Celebrimbor had passed into the Halls of Mandos. And they respected his suffering, and they honored his sacrifice, for the poor Lord of Eregion had not revealed the location of the Three Rings no matter how much pain he had been given.

To everyone’s surprise, the faint visions of Celebrimbor returned. Tyelpë looked healed, he had put on some weight, and yet he looked broken, more broken than ever. There was a mysterious power around him, enveloping him, subduing him, strangling him. Galadriel’s heart ached for her poor cousin. She had to rescue him, no matter what it took. She let her husband and Gil-Galad take care of the war matters while she spent long hours in front of her mirror, silently battling an unknown force in her mind. No spell was strong enough, but she forsook her pride and begged of Manwë to send her strength, and of Varda to give her mercy, and of Aulë to provide counsel. And the Valar listened; the waters of the mirror opened, and emerged Celebrimbor, pale and unconscious and forever wounded in his soul. He would never fully heal until he would have reached the shores of Valinor, but at least, he was finally free.

* * *   
Ereinion could not get enough of that lovely calm countenance. He had seen so many nightmares, Tyelpë’s face all bloodied, distorted in pain, his mouth open in a silent scream… and now, Tyelpë was at peace. He was sleeping quietly, his lips slightly parted, his brow occasionally frowning from unknown dreams, but only for a fleeting moment. All was well.

Ereinion wanted to hold him close, to tell him all the words he had not had the courage to speak before. How he admired Tyelpë when he was still a child in Nargothrond, despite all that being Curufin’s son entailed. How the admiration grew and strengthened over the years and bloomed into love. How he suffered in silence, the most mighty of the Noldor, as shy as an adolescent in front of his beloved.

“Tyelpë,” he whispered, touching the pale hand impatiently. “Tyelpë, my dear.”

Tyelpë’s lips trembled. “Gil?..”

That simple sound made Ereinion choke on his breath. “It’s me, Tyelpë, I’m here…” He took Tyelpë’s hand gently and held it between the two of his.

“It’s a dream,” Tyelpë whispered sadly. “He’ll come back for me.”

“Sauron is not here,” Ereinion reassured.

“Not Sauron… Aaravos.”

Ereinion sighed, thinking of some other unspeakable horrors Tyelpë must have undergone. “There is no one here with that name. You’re in Lorien.”

Finally, the lord of Eregion opened his blue-grey eyes, just as admirable as Ereinion had remembered them. “Gil, I… am a disgrace to my family.”

“No,” Ereinion shook his head vigorously. “No, Tyelpë, no. You are our hero. You are the pride of your family. And I… we love you.”

Tyelpë turned away, to the gentle light of the window and the chirping of birds. “You don’t know what he’s done to me.”

In a moment of courage, Ereinion brought Tyelpë’s hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss into it with all his love and patience. “Nothing,” he spoke, choking on tears, “nothing will ever change the way I feel about you. I don’t care what he’s done. You’re my hero. You’re my pride. You’re my…”

Tyelpë looked right into Ereinion’s eyes, his gaze straight and piercing.

“My love,” Ereinion finished, the last breath pushed out of his lungs. And he wept, tears dripping on Tyepë’s hands and on the white sheets.

Tyelpë smiled, a rare sight he had almost forgotten. “Gil?..”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Hold me?”

“Of course...”


	3. Interlude

Gil’s warm hands, his soothing voice, his gentle words were so good - too good to be true… It must have been a nice dream, and he was endlessly grateful for that temporary relief.

And yet Gil’s lovely scent felt real. Tyelpë inhaled it eagerly, reveling in Ereinion’s warm embrace. The amiable king was sleeping, sleeping next to him! Could that be true? Could he be back from the mirror, back from what seemed like centuries of indignity, next to someone whose power he was happy to accept?

He kissed Gil’s hair lightly in his bliss.

“Tyelpë?” Gil murmured sleepily.

Oh. Oh, he was so real, so perfect…

“Hello, my dear friend,” Tyelpë whispered, nuzzling into Ereinion’s warm neck.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” Ereinion’s arms wrapped tighter around Tyelpë. “We will bring your old life back, I promise,” he whispered reassuringly into the other’s hair.

“No,” Tyelpë shook his head slightly, his thoughts turning back to the smoking ruins many months earlier. “Gil… Gil, I don’t want to…”

Ereinion let go of him to cup his face and look into his eyes. “What? Why, Tyelpë?”

“I was not a good ruler,” Tyelpë whispered, his eyes quickly filling with tears. “I do not wish to have a say in people’s fates. I am unworthy.”

“Shh…” Gil brought him close again to stroke him lightly on the back. “You’re just exhausted. You’ll get past it.”

“No,” Tyelpë insisted. “I do no want power. I do not wish to make any more decisions, I…”

Gil kissed the top of his head, interrupting the stream of self-accusations. “Then, as your king, I grant you leave,” he whispered, too tenderly to sound official. “But will you stay with me, Tyelperinquar? Will you return to Lindon with me when the war is over?”

Tyelpë sobbed. “Would you… Would you want me?”

“You know I always do,” Ereinion assured. “My poor darling, my dear, my love… I’m here with you, I will always be with you, my Tyelpë…”

Tyelpë’s entire body shook as he wept, face pressed against Gil’s chest.

“I will kill that bastard,” Gil whispered passionately. “I will pick up a spear and put it through his throat.”

“Don’t.... don’t risk yourself…”

“Worry not about me.” The king’s voice was firm. “A Maia or not, he will die from my hand.”

Tyelpë’s breath calmed gradually. “I will help you,” he spoke, his voice growing stronger with each word. “I doubt I will ever fight again, Gil. My leg is maimed, I cannot ride a horse, and loud sounds darken my mind… But I still have my hands and my skill. There  _ must  _ be something to take him down.”

“I like the sound of that,” Ereinion smiled.

Tyelpë lifted up his head and finally faced Gil, his eyes still red and puffy.

“I love you, my skilled craftsman,” Ereinion declared, openly and without shame. “I hope you know that.”

“You… you won’t hurt me, right?” Tyelpë looked at him beggingly, suddenly fearful.

“I would never, Tyelpë darling.” Ereinion’s voice sounded sincere. “I am not  _ him.  _ You know I am forever your friend.”

“I trust you,” Tyelpë breathed out, leaning against Gil. “You have warned me all along… You’ve always cared for me....”

“And I will continue to do so, my love.”

“Thank you, my dear. Thank you, thank you.”


	4. Healing

Elrond closed the journal he used to write down his healing recommendations and tied it with a leather band. He could not afford to stay with Celebrimbor here; Gil-Galad needed him, needed his help taking care of the survivors from Eregion. Rivendell was still under construction, and the king joked that only a descendant of Turgon could complete the stronghold. Celebrimbor traveling with him was out of the question. His sore leg made horseback riding difficult, and he was terrified of being recaptured, a fear shared by everybody else. Even in Lorien, Celebrimbor carried a vial of deadly poison on a string around his neck - to end his life before he is taken captive. Elrond advised against it, worried about the possibility of an accident, or, otherwise, Tyelpë harming himself on purpose. But Celebrimbor was stubborn and had to be allowed to keep the vial.

There were other things causing Elrond concern. Signs of abuse were all over Tyelpë. He covered himself up as much as possible, wearing heavy robes even on warm days. Elrond had thought he wanted to hide the scars left by endless torture. That was, until the day a member of Gil-Galad’s court complimented his looks - a very common thing in Lindon. Celebrimbor broke down into tears, nevermind the onlookers, and begged the courtier not to harm him. Elrond was not sure which villain had caused the accident - Sauron or the mysterious being who was Tyelpë’s other captor. 

Celebrimbor now seemed to have a strange dual relationship with his body. Elrond discovered this when the baffled captain of Galadriel and Celeborn’s guards knocked at his door one night and informed him that lord Celebrimbor was unwell. The officer had strengthened the security around Celebrimbor’s chambers, as per the lady and lord’s request. Tyelpë knew no other way to thank for safety than with his body, and that was exactly what he offered to the captain. Poor Tyelpë! Truth be told, Elrond was mortified and slightly disgusted by the incident, a feeling he became immediately ashamed of. Elrond recalled how conservatively Maedhros would dress, and how vigorously he would defend and insist on his chastity. He thought of all the things he did not know about Maedhros, and of all the things he would never know about Celebrimbor. It hurt; he cried as he held his cousin, and he cried as he was telling the story to Galadriel.

“Are you inclined to try some meat, my lord?” The chef’s gentle voice distracted Elrond from his sad thoughts. The question was directed to Celebrimbor. “How has your stomach been lately?”

Celebrimbor winced. “I’ll stick to the vegetable soup.” A sigh revealed he was still suffering from stomach pains. “I’m so sorry.”

Elrond shook his head. Tyelpë had trouble adjusting back to Middle-Earth food - no matter what aspect of the poor thing’s life one would take, everything was pain and struggle. Nothing was right. Even the way Tyelpë was sitting, slouching, hunched over his plate, nothing like his former lordly self - was wrong.

Elrond sighed. Perhaps Celebrimbor had to undertake one last journey and sail back to his true homeland beyond the sea. Unless something was here to keep him.

“How are you, Tyelpë?”

Gil-Galad’s appearance was sudden but welcome. Celebrimbor straightened, his sad face lighting up with a smile. “Gil…”

“My dear Tyelpë.” The king approached to wrap his arms around his beloved, a little too tightly, in Elrond’s informed opinion. “I’m prepared to take my leave. Will you walk me to the door, darling?”

And Celebrimbor did, nevermind his sore leg and his hunger. He even rode on horseback, despite Gil-Galad’s protests, and followed him to the very borders of Lorien. Elrond left shortly thereafter - still worried but with a faint hint of hope.


	5. Warmth

Tyelpë’s stomach was filled with warm tea, and there was still a full, hot teapot on a little table in Gil-Galad’s bedroom. The sky was darkening, and he felt tire in his muscles after such a long and productive day. He had ridden a horse for a little while, finally approached the forge after an unbelievably lengthy break, and explored the wonders of Gil-Galad’s kitchen. He still remembered vividly the crunch of the apples and the softness of the cooked meat - best memories! And the berry juice, and the salad dressing, and the golden slices of potato!.. Letters from Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond were on the table, for both of them, waiting to be opened, but Tyelpë was too exhausted to read. They would do it in the morning; Gil was warm and comfortable in Tyelpë’s arms, and neither of them wanted to move.

“Tyelp?” Gil called sweetly.

“Mm?” Tyelpë nuzzled into Gil’s chest, inhaling the pleasant scent of his dear friend, mixed with whatever oils Gil had used during his bath.

“I love you, Tyelp.”

His breath hitched. Gil had not said it in a while, not since they parted that day in Lorien. It had been confusing and hard to believe or imagine then; it was crystal clear now. Tyelpë was ready to respond.

“I love you too, Gil,” he whispered, squeezing the other’s hand gently.

He could have sworn Gil sobbed. “Tyelp… Tyelp, for real?”

“For real, sweetheart.” Tyelpë kissed him on the nose, as if to confirm.

“Oh…” Gil gasped. “You love me. You kissed me!”

Bravely, Tyelpë pecked his beloved king on the lips, their breaths meeting, the most pleasurable experience of Tyelpë’s day. Gil’s breath quickened. “Tyelpë… may I… may I…”

Tyelpë closed his eyes, smiling. Of course, of course… He had wanted it for so long, only could not find the courage to face those feelings and desires he had thought Sauron killed in him. “That would make me very happy, Gil, my dear.”

Gil leaned forward and pressed his lips to Tyelpë’s. Eagerly, Tyelpë replied; he’d though he’d forgotten how to do that with sincere passion and not against his wish. It was so very easy to re-learn with Ereinion while clinging to his warm body and touching his fragrant skin through the slit in his nightshirt.

“Gil, thank you,” Tyelpë whispered lovingly after their lips parted. Ereinion kept rubbing his back in circles, and that felt  _ so good. _

“For what?”

For what?! Oh, clueless Gil! “You made me feel alive again. My beautiful healing king.”

Gil chuckled in amusement. “That sounds like ‘healing stone.’”

“You are my healing star,” Tyelpë replied tenderly, tracing the outlines of Gil’s face with his fingertips.

“I am ready to be your star. All yours.”

“And I will be your helping hand.”

Gil threw his head back, laughing heartily. “I’ve nearly forgotten how skilled you are with puns.”

Tyelpë responded with a gentle kiss.

Gil wrapped his arms tighter around his love. “So what are you working on in that forge, skilled hand?”

“Something that will make you famous,” Tyelpë promised.

“That’s… intriguing.” Gil rubbed the back of Tyelpë’s head lightly. “Do you want to go to sleep now, darling?”

“Mm-hm…” Tyelpë was indeed very sleepy.

“Then settle in my arms, and I’ll put out the candles.”

“Love you...”

“Love you, Tyelp.”


End file.
